


Post-Partum

by Radio Rascal (Vagrants)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Gen, Headcanon, Pre-Canon, Some Fluff, Tags May Change, Transformer Sparklings, decepticon-centric, pre-triple changer Blitzwing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-02-27 21:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrants/pseuds/Radio%20Rascal
Summary: Megatron goes broody. Blackarachnia commits science. A day is had.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i have this headcanon that Sari was a Decepticon experiment to discover new ways of generating sparks, so this is a fic expanding on that.
> 
> this was originally the prologue to a much larger fic i'm writing, but it got long and it stands on its own so i'm posting it by itself. it's entirely drafted and should be about 10-12k, but don't quote me on that because i still have to do edits. that's why i didn't specify an amount of chapters because i don't know where the chapters really end yet.
> 
> edit: this wasn't supposed to be g-rated lmao?? sorry

As the _Nemesis_ crawled through the vast stretches of space, there was often little else to do besides think. Megatron had plenty to think about, his most recent ideas inspired by, of all cons, Blackarachnia.

She was the youngest Decepticon by millions of stellar cycles, and she was a turncoat, not a new spark. Megatron hadn’t seen a newly sparked Decepticon since Starscream, constructed right before their exile, and Starscream couldn’t be considered youthful anymore. Blackarachnia’s lively energy, her softness, even her lack of conviction reminded him of what it was like to be young, to _be around_ the young. A new spark would be even more exuberant.

They needed new sparks, because the Decepticons were going extinct. Without Vector Sigma, and with the Allspark missing, the Decepticons had no way to generate sparks. Their Cause would die with the last of their kind, and he was sure the Autobots would celebrate. Decepticons were an old people becoming ancient history.

It was a slow extinction. Age didn’t wither a spark; there was no point where the weight of time would crush the light in one’s chamber. Organics died as easily, but not Cybertronians. Time wore on mechanics and components, though, and there were few ways of obtaining good resources without the Commonwealth. Piracy only got them so much, and sometimes resulted in cons being taken or killed, defeating the purpose of the piracy itself.

Vector Sigma was out of reach, and the Allspark was as elusive as a god. It could be centuries until either was in Megatron’s grasp, and the former required war; if they were going to capture Cybertron, it would be nice to have some extra servos first.

As nice as it was to have a new con, Blackarachnia couldn’t replace the many deaths during the last million years, and she didn’t seem concerned with it either. With her more recent components, she would most likely be the last con left, and Megatron didn’t expect her to carry on the Cause. She only seemed to be here because she had no choice.

Though Megatron didn’t trust Blackarachnia’s integrity, he did trust her scientific ability. She had studied a little on Cybertron, and Shockwave had furthered her education before his mission. It was fortunate she was here in his absence to help with Megatron’s recent curious, broody mood.

The lab door was unlocked as usual, and he strode in that morning before he’d even stepped onto the bridge. Blackarachnia sat at a desk that was a bit big for her, doing calculations. Megatron saw her through a tangle of cables and machines—Shockwave had taken advantage of his size-shifting by packing things as close as physically possible, and Megatron couldn’t step more than a couple feet into the room. She had to inherit the lab if for no other reason than her stature allowed her to access things.

“Blackarachnia,” he said.

She snapped to attention, startled. It had been years, but he noticed she was still nervous around him. Undoing a life’s worth of programming took a while, he supposed. “Yes, Lord Megatron?”

“Are you doing anything that can’t wait?”

“No, sir. I’ve been pretty idle.”

“Come with me, then. I’d like to show you something. I need...an opinion.”

She ducked under a canopy of stuff and followed him into the hall. “Is something the matter?”

“Hopefully,” he said, knowing he was being vague. “You’ll see.”

They saw nobody else as they walked further into the _Nemesis_. “Tell me,” Megatron started, “what are the known methods of spark generation? Remind me of them.”

“Vector Sigma and the Allspark,” Blackarachnia said. “In both cases, a very large energy source is used to ignite the spark chamber.”

“What are the theoretically possible methods of spark generation? Those which are untested or unproven, but thought about?”

Blackarachnia hummed. “Well...we didn’t think a lot about it, honestly. There was never any need.”

“Ah.” He stopped by a large door.

“Why do you ask, sir?”

“You are the youngest Decepticon in existence,” he said. “I want to change that.”

“I see.”

He entered a code on a keypad by the door. It opened to reveal the rows of stolen protoforms Lockdown had delivered to him so long ago. They were as pristine as that day and just as empty. “Our people are going extinct, Blackarachnia. Despite our hardiness, we do die.”

“You want to make sure the Decepticons have a future. I understand that.”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you begin to measure time in thousands, even millions of stellar cycles, instead of centuries or decades. To me, our extinction feels near, even though in reality it will be a cosmologically slow process.” Megatron took the nearest protoform out of its pod. “We need to start now. We need new Decepticons. These protoforms have laid here since before the end of the war, awaiting sparks. I had hoped we would find the Allspark and activate them. Now I feel a more aggressive approach is necessary.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Take this protoform and give it a spark. Try not to damage it, but don’t neglect a theory because you fear it will destroy the protoform. Right now we have plenty, and generating a viable spark takes priority over conserving our resources. Tear it apart if you must.”

Blackarachnia took the protoform gingerly, shifting it in her arms. It was light, but nearly as big as herself. “I don’t think I have room in my lab for this…”

“There are cubic miles of unused space here. Take your pick of rooms, or if you’d rather keep the lab, you can borrow Blitzwing to help you tidy.”

“I would appreciate that, my lord. Cleaning would be more efficient than moving everything to a new room. But…” She shifted the protoform from one side to the other. “...I might not be able to do anything.” A creeping shyness came over her.

“You’ll do what you can,” Megatron said. “You’re competent, Blackarachnia. If it’s impossible, then it’s impossible. We need to know one way or the other. Put the triple changer programs on hold, even, until it’s done.”

“Th-thank you, Lord Megatron. I’ll do my best.”

“Excellent.” He opened his comm. “Blitzwing, I have a task for you.”

“Oh? What sort, my liege?”

“You’re helping Blackarachnia tidy her room.”

“Chores. At least I get to spend time with a lady.”

Megatron watched Blackarachnia’s face contort. “She needs it done today, and don’t mind the protoform. I ordered it.”

Blitzwing made a noise. “Something curious is happening? And I’m the...I suppose the second to know? I’m honored, Lord Megatron.”

“With all hope, there’ll be plenty to talk about shortly. I’m heading to the bridge now. She’ll fill you in, and I suppose I should tell Starscream and Lugnut. Blackarachnia, inform me daily of your progress.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can’t wait to see what’s going on,” Blitzwing said with a light laugh.

“Me too,” Megatron replied, thinking forward with apprehensive anticipation—not yet hope, but perhaps it could become as much.

* * *

Three weeks passed without progress. Blackarachnia dissected the protoform and explored all its components, wrote a novel’s worth of notes, and brainstormed for the first couple of days.

Next she tried various methods of generating a spark inside the chamber that Megatron and Blitzwing built for her. Prongs attached to the chamber’s handles fed it electricity from the _Nemesis_ ’s engine for hours one day; the rest of the week, she exposed the protoform to every radiation and chemical they had on hand; for the next week straight Blackarachnia was convinced that gravity was key, because the _Nemesis_ was kept at half of Cybertron’s gravity. Not a single glimmer danced in the chamber.

Now she was studying a live spark—Blitzwing, who had been acting as her lab assistant for the entire time. Megatron had been spending his shifts on the bridge alone, and that was the only thing that irritated him. It was terminally boring standing around an empty bridge by oneself, but he bore it with minimal show of impatience.

It was the first day of the fourth week of experiments. Megatron was preparing to leave the bridge to Starscream and Lugnut for the night when Blackarachnia commed him with giddy excitement. “Lord Megatron! I think I’ve got something! There’s no spark but I’ve got a damn good lead and need to discuss it with you. Sir.”

Starscream looked over from his console. Blackarachnia had opened the public comm, and though the experiments weren’t secret, he was very interested in them in a way that perturbed Megatron.

“Very good. I’m on my way.” He stood from the captain’s chair. “I’m departing for the night. Keep this course until morning.”

“What if we can’t?” Starscream asked.

“Then don’t.”

“Hmm.”

Megatron turned and walked into the hall before he decided to be in a bad mood. Starscream had a unique hobby of getting under one’s armor when things seemed to be going well.

He turned a couple of corners and entered Blackarachnia’s lab onto a strange scene. Instead of the protoform, Blitzwing lay on the operating table, his chest plates opened to reveal his spark. Blackarachnia stood on her tiptoes over him, holding the empty spark chamber. In the back of the room, the protoform had been draped across a counter as though it were an afterthought to whatever was going on in the center of the room.

“Watch this, Lord Megatron,” Blackarachnia said.

She lowered the empty chamber until it was practically making contact with Blitzwing’s spark. It swallowed his light. His optics flickered as whitish arcs danced along the edges of the touching rims. She lifted the chamber. Its face glowed warm and blue, but faded the second it wasn’t touching Blitzwing. Blackarachnia looked at Megatron smartly.

“That is such not a good feeling,” Blitzwing slurred.

“You’re a trooper,” Blackarachnia said. “Lord Megatron, I think this is our solution.”

“It looked more to me like you were torturing him. What is this?”

“So, experimenting with the protoform was getting us nowhere. Then it hit me—I hadn’t studied a live spark. I started running tests on Blitzwing, _maybe_ prodding him a _little bit_.”

“She took it out at one point,” Blitzwing said. “Has anyone ever removed your spark, Lord Megatron? It’s very odd.”

“Then I thought, what is the Allspark anyway? What is Vector Sigma? They contain infinite spark energy, and create us by giving a small portion of themselves to us. They are, themselves, _sparks_.” She pointed at Blitzwing’s open chest. “So why couldn’t we use our own sparks for this?”

“Like a splice? Wouldn’t that just leave the two with half a spark each?”

“No, sir. If a spark loses mass, it’ll regrow—Blitzwing volunteered for that experiment too. The parent and child would need extra fuel for a while, but according to my preliminary tests they’d be fine.”

“This is fantastic news, Blackarachnia. When should we expect the first new sparks?”

“It’ll be a bit, sir. I don’t even know if it’ll work the way I think it will and I have to figure out how to safely transfer spark energy. Vector Sigma shoots a sort of beam but I doubt we can do that, so it’ll probably take a lot of cabling. I’m also worried about the parent’s spark strength.”

“Some might be too weak to do it?”

“Yes. I’d like to use the strongest spark on board for the best chance of results, so I need to examine everyone.”

“Including me?”

“Yes, sir.” Her tone was tense, awkward. “It’s uh, I know it’s— I don’t think I should be asking, but, you know…”

Exasperated, Megatron said, “Fine.”

“F-fine?”

“If my spark is the strongest, I won’t let some minor discomfort get in the way of success. Besides, Blitzwing volunteered himself and I won’t allow him to show me up.”

“Our master is rather like that.”

“I already scanned his spark,” Blackarachnia said. “Would it be all right if I scanned yours now, Lord Megatron?”

“Yes.”

It was a quick procedure. He bared his spark and she held a handheld device over it for a few minutes.

“Your readings are _way_ higher than Blitzwing’s. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the strongest one here, my lord.”

He looked over the scan results, faintly pleased. “All right. Let’s see yours.”

Her optics almost blew out. “I’ll—! Do mine last, if that’s okay!”

Autobots were shy about the strangest things. “Then I’ll call Lugnut and Starscream.”

Starscream walked in with an unhappy sneer, not meeting optics with anyone. Lugnut was eager to do anything for Megatron, of course, but he was tense about showing anything to Blackarachnia. They had the results in a few minutes, and the group dispersed.

Megatron stood at a viewport in one of the _Nemesis_ ’s many empty halls, thinking things over. The starscape floated by with a hypnotizing effect. He arrived at his answer and continued to look for a while after, getting settled in his mind.

His spark was the strongest among them—Starscream was in second, which shocked Megatron. Blackarachnia was third and had a significant lead on Blitzwing, and Lugnut was the weakest, another surprise.

Suppose Starscream’s spark was sufficient; Megatron didn’t want the new spark to come from such stock. He trusted Blackarachnia to an extent, but anything taken from her spark might create an Autobot sympathizer. After her, the chances of success decreased severely. Megatron was the obvious choice.

Willing though he was, he wished it were someone else. Still, he said he would let nothing get in his way—not even himself.

“If you want it done right,” he said.

“Understood, sir,” Blackarachnia replied over comm.

“What is the next step?”

“I need to measure your spark chamber so I can make the cables the right size. Then we’ll go from there.”

How far would they go? Megatron never expected he would be part of the experiment. He trusted Blackarachnia to not deliberately harm him, and he admitted he was excited, but they were now in uncharted territory. Whatever happened next had never happened before.

That was the moment when he realized he really, truly had no choice—because he needed to know what happened next. He needed to be part of it. The new spark was going to be his.

* * *

Construction took another few days. Megatron was summoned intermittently for fittings, measurements, and extra tests, and Blackarachnia’s uncomfortable hesitation about touching him didn’t help expedite the process. Once everything was finally to her liking, they moved on to the next step.

Megatron knelt with his chest open in the lab. Before him, lying on the table, was the protoform. The chamber had been inserted into the hole in its chest, small wires attached to the rim and to the protoform’s head running to a nearby computer that displayed flat vital signs. Similar wires were attached to Megatron to monitor his condition and administer treatment if something went wrong.

Blackarachnia stood before him, holding a monster of a cable in one hand. The head was thick, looked heavy, and resembled some kind of organic worm. It contained the actual spark-siphoning machine, and a thinner cable sprouted from its side that led to the main computer, where Blackarachnia would tell it to start and stop. She lined up the magnetized mouth with his exposed chamber and stuck it on with a thump.

It was indeed heavy. When she stepped away to connect the other end to the protoform, he instinctively grabbed the cable to support it. His spark felt strange, but he couldn’t say in what way. Physically he was now connected to the protoform, and perhaps that was the feeling.

“Are you ready, sir?” Blackarachnia asked.

“Yes,” Megatron replied.

“I’ve just got to set up the last things now.” She typed at the main computer for what seemed a long time. “Okay, we’re good to go. I’m going to open the transferring gate now and see how that effects you.”

His spark hummed. Some deep part of him opened up. Vulnerability didn’t come easy to a warbuild—the extra computers in his limbs reported that they were all combat ready, and his processor itself ran automatic threat evaluations and status checks. He dismissed it, letting none of it show through, and he nodded when Blackarachnia cast him a questioning look.

She gave a thumbs up and moved to the other computer to open the receiving gate. The hum grew into a buzz and he could feel his spark stretch towards the cable. Confused warnings displayed on his screen and he told them to go away.

“How is it?”

“It’s not working,” he said.

“I set it on low,” Blackarachnia replied. “It seems siphoning a little bit of spark energy isn’t working though. It’s dissipating too quickly so I think I’ll have to increase the transfer rate. How do you feel? What’s going on in there?”

“I can tell something’s happening to me, but I could ignore it if I had something else to focus on. I believe I’m fine. Set it as high as you think is necessary.”

He heard muttering behind him. Starscream, Blitzwing, and Lugnut were doing a bad job of being discreet. They were supposed to be on the bridge, but he was preoccupied and didn’t feel like rising to it, so he let them pretend to hide in the hall.

“I’ll increase it slowly,” Blackarachnia said. “Starting now.”

A meter on the screen began to rise steadily, paralleling the increasing pull on his spark. The stretch became a yank. The transfer rate reached, and passed, some critical threshold and he gasped, cringing at the sudden departure of self. His spark was in two bodies. He was being cut in half. Bizarre error codes plastered his HUD. Even if he had the mind for it he didn’t think he could make sense of them. He could hardly make sense of his current existence.

“Lord Megatron?” Blackarachnia’s voice doubled, like he was hearing her from two different places. “Just a little more.”

Blue electricity flew from the receiving end of the cable, escaping energy that died on the air. The protoform’s back arched so severely that only its heels and head touched the table, its limbs and undeveloped hands writhing as loose energy crawled along its body. Blackarachnia cackled. “It’s working! It’s coming to life! It’s got vitals!”

There was indeed a sparkbeat, but it was weak and transient. It went high and low, ricocheting and fluttering and skipping some beats in painful, tense shudders. Megatron knew because its spark was the same as his, and he was not having a good time.

Its movements became even less coordinated and it began to glow the way protoforms glowed when they were placed in shells. As he watched, it lost its shape and shrank, snapping free of the cable.

There was a flash of bright light as spark energy freely left him. Megatron didn’t mean to scream but he did. On pure instinct he took the cable around his own spark and ripped it off, instantly relieving his pain.

Two sets of feet pounded into the room upon hearing him scream. Blitzwing was by his side, looking curious and uncertain, while Lugnut, with the POKE activated, stomped towards Blackarachnia. She waved off his threats, her optics glued to the shrinking, wavering protoform.

Megatron used Blitzwing to pull himself up. He was unsteady, but coming back to himself. His spark felt raw, like someone had scraped the surface with a thousand knives, but the pain was _contained_ inside his body, not floating around in the air unprotected and untethered.

The protoform had become a small, formless white mass and was still shrinking. Megatron expected it to fizzle into nothing and disappear, but it stopped when it was about the size of the tip of his thumb and began to solidify. He approached the table, never looking away from it.

They all gathered around the protoform and watched in stunned silence. It cooled from white to grey and revealed its shape, squat and round and badly proportioned. A huge head and uselessly tiny limbs were connected to a thin torso, and its optics were present but closed. It was curled up in a ball on the table, its face in its knees.

It twitched and unfurled. Little limbs stretched then retracted. Bright red optics opened, huge on its face, and the first person it looked at was Megatron. After a moment it looked at the rest of the group. Then it opened its mouth and beeped at them, breaking the spell that had fallen over the room.

“It’s alive,” Starscream said.

“It’s cute,” Blitzwing said.

“It’s strange,” Lugnut said.

“It’s tiny,” Megatron said.

Blackarachnia stuck a little wire into the protoform’s head and performed a scan. Because it was so small, the scan was done in seconds. She smiled while reading the results. “It’s a girl.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking care of someone small enough to be lost under a dust ball isn't easy, but Megatron learns. He also does some thinking and has a few meaningful conversations. It's a bad sign when Blitzwing is your voice of reason...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING on this chapter for uh...discussion of infanticide? i'm sorry.

It took some doing, but Megatron got Lugnut and Starscream back to the bridge. Blitzwing was away on an errand for Blackarachnia, so it was just the three of them—the two normal cons and the small mistake.

She was quiet and studious. When anything moved, she looked at it. If there was nothing to look at she would turn her attention to Megatron and stare at him like he was the most interesting thing in the universe. He returned the stare, and the sentiment. Despite his roiling disappointment, he couldn’t tear himself away.

He was sitting and not the least interested in moving. His spark rattled in his chamber disconcertingly, but the diagnostic wires attached to his chest apparently didn’t report anything too concerning to Blackarachnia, who was more engrossed in the protoform’s monitor. Though his vitals were stable and the splinter of new spark couldn’t have been more than a few inches across, his body complained like a chunk as large as his fist was missing.

“Why did this happen?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Blackarachnia answered. “My guess is that she had to shrink because of her spark size. Protoforms are very fluid like that. The other stuff, like the lack of movement and limited processing power, are probably a result of that.”

“Was it because we didn’t place her in a shell first?” He intended to be cautious; if the new spark was dangerous or rebellious, he wanted to easily contain them.

“That might have hurt her worse, actually, if my theory is correct. I don’t know if her spark can support a shell at this point, either, even a small one.”

“Can you splice more of my spark into her? Would she grow?”

“That’s inadvisable. We don’t know the long term effects of one splice. I don’t know if she could handle an influx of energy like that anyway.”

The splice had been painful and it almost killed him. He still suggested his next idea. “Try it again with another protoform and increase the output.”

“Sir, I’m afraid I can’t follow that order. It’d kill you. Even your spark was barely strong enough for one splice.” Blackarachnia shook her head. “Maybe I can improve the method. Maybe we’re not meant to do this. Either way, I am not splicing you again.”

“You’re saying there’s nothing to be done about this.”

“I don’t know if anything can be done or not, sir. I can study her, do some research, but it’ll take time.”

“If this is the best we can do, it’s the same as failure,” Megatron said, gesturing to the protoform. “She’s useless.”

Blackarachnia shrank a little. Perhaps she took it as a slight against her ability, or maybe she felt protective of something so defenseless. “If we could get her to move and think more, she could become a spy. Imagine something that small getting into places where we can’t.”

“I need something now, Blackarachnia. I do not want to  _ wait and see _ .”

She fidgeted, averting her gaze, like she didn’t want to say anything but knew she was obligated. “There’s something you can do about her, right now. You could—reabsorb her spark. I could hook you two up like before, but switch the gates. It’d be easy.”

Megatron meditated on the torn feeling in his chest. “You mean kill her. Erase her and reclaim her energy.”

Blackarachnia looked down. “Yes, sir.”

“Are you suggesting it?”

“No, sir.”

The protoform stirred and glanced at them in turn.

“Perhaps we do need time,” Megatron said evenly.

Blitzwing walked in at that moment, a welcome break in the awkward atmosphere. He handed an egg-shaped object to Blackarachnia. “Here you are. A miniature protoform pod for the little one.”

“Thanks, Blitzwing.” Blackarachnia walked over to the table, set the pod down, and opened it. She gently nudged one of her digits under the protoform. At the contact, her silver skin rippled like water, as though held together by surface tension. Blackarachnia pressed her thumb lightly against the protoform’s stomach, lifted her, and placed her in the pod. Once the lid shut, she was protected from pathogens, sharp objects, and anything else that could do her harm, which was probably everything.

The protoform reacted to the new situation by opening her mouth and making a noise Megatron couldn’t hear. His spark thudded, not like a skipped beat but as though something from the outside struck it lightly; it was like a knuckle knocking on a door. He scooted the chair closer to the table to better watch her.

She tilted her bulbous head in a cutely grotesque way and stared at him. Nothing like her had ever been made on Cybertron, he was sure. She was unique. He hoped she was worth it.

“She needs to get better,” Megatron said.

“Hmm? Oh.” Blackarachnia patted the pod. “I’ll try to help her, my lord. That reminds me. Did you want to leave her here for observations? Did you want to stay?”

He still ached, but it had gotten better. “I’ll go to my quarters. I’m fine. I’ll take the protoform as well.”

“What’s her name?” Blitzwing asked.

“Name?” Megatron exclaimed. “She’s just born, Blitzwing. There’s nothing to make a name.”

“What are we supposed to call her then?”

“Little one, like you did before.”

“As you command. Shall we walk together?”

He picked up the pod. Its warmth seeped into his glove.

“Good night, Lord Megatron, Blitzwing.”

The barracks were on the lower deck. At its height, the  _ Nemesis _ carried a crew of dozens, but the expansive room was devoid now with only a few bunkberths near the door. Blitzwing slid into the bottom half of one, letting out a tired but relieved noise.

“I’m curious,” Megatron said, standing in the door. “What do you really think of her? What do you think of what I've done?”

Blitzwing rolled over, looked at him and the pod, then shrugged.

“That's it?”

“I don't know what to say. If you're fine with it then so am I. There's no reason for me to have an opinion.”

“You are so...easygoing.”

“I've never heard that as an insult before, sir. Impressive.”

“If it were up to you and you  _ had _ to have an opinion, what would you do?”

“I have a feeling you're asking that question without giving me all the context first.”

Damn their history—Blitzwing was good at reading him when he felt like it. “As a matter of fact, I haven't,” Megatron said. He paused, putting his thoughts in order. “The little one's future is uncertain. She may never have a shell, and she can’t move or think much. It’s possible she could remain in this state forever. Blackarachnia informed me I could reabsorb her spark, which would destroy her consciousness but rejoin her energy with mine. It wouldn’t be quite like death.”

“I see. I don't think I would do that yet.”

“Yet?”

“No.”

Megatron ran a thumb over the pod.

“I would rest.” Blitzwing raised an optic at him. “Maybe some stasis would give me a new perspective.”

“That does make sense.” He turned to leave. “Good talk, Blitzwing.”

“Of course, my liege. Rest well.”

Megatron left the main barracks and continued to the end of the hall, which terminated in his private quarters. He typed the code into the keypad on the wall, unlocking the door, and entered. It was an austere and unexciting room. The only fixture of interest was a faintly glowing globe of Cybertron on the desk, currently the sole light in the room. He set the pod next to it so the little one at least had something to see.

The  _ Nemesis _ was vast and empty. Slight though she was, she did fill a bit of that space. He didn’t want her to die, truly; but sometimes death was better than life. She was small enough to lose under a dust ball. Could anyone help her? Could anyone protect her?

He’d hoped privacy would unstuck his thoughts, but she was just as puzzling as before. There was no clear best path in his sight. He could wait to see what time did to her, or undo her, or take her to New Kaon so he didn’t have to look at her, or put her in stasis until, when and if, they found a fix for her condition. Every option had puzzling, concerning questions. What if New Kaon was worse for her? What if they put her in stasis but never found a fix—was that really a better fate than reabsorption?

Blitzwing and Blackarachnia were right, though he was loathe to admit it. He and the little one both needed time and rest.

He turned from the desk and stepped towards his berth. Something knocked at his spark again. He tried to ignore it but it became more persistent, almost frantic, and he halted with faint concern. Was this a side effect of the splice? Should he call Blackarachnia? Instead of that, he turned around and returned to the desk. The little one locked optics with him and the knocking stopped.

Understanding dawned, though he wasn’t entirely certain how he came to the conclusion or how it was possible. Sparks knew things processors didn’t, he supposed. They could do things the body couldn’t. He’d ask Blackarachnia tomorrow, but he believed he was correct—she was touching his spark somehow, calling or pinging him.

Could he do the same? It had to be easy if she did it. He concentrated on her and thought he felt something. The confirmation came a second later when her optics widened and she tossed her head and limbs around in apparent excitement. She must have felt very ignored until now.

“I really must rest now.”

She pinged him as if to say,  _ Not yet. _

“What is it now?”

She lifted a hand to her mouth and chewed on a digit.

“Are you hungry? You can be quite communicative.” He took a cube of energon from a desk drawer. When she saw it, her optics popped wide. “Ha? All right. I’ll...hmm.” He glanced between the little one and the cube. She could swim in it. Given her limited movement and motor control, he didn’t think she would drink well even with a small container.

He set the cube next to her and knelt, opening the bottom drawer on the desk. It contained bundles of wires, parts, tools, and other disorganized supplies. His actual work station was on another deck, but he kept some things here in case he wanted to tinker in the middle of the night and didn’t want to walk. He dug through the junk, hunting for a dropper. They were sometimes useful for lubricating the mechanics of very small machines.

The dropper he found was as big as the little one but would serve his purposes. First he siphoned up some cleaning solution, figuring it was less dangerous than any residual lubricant or whatever else might have been inside it. He took off the bulb and dried the inside with a small piece of synthetic cloth to be extra sure.

She couldn’t take much fuel. He filled the dropper halfway, opened the pod, and stuck the tip at her face. She grumbled and pulled her head away.

“It doesn’t look like it, but this is food. Eat.” He chased her mouth but she evaded him. When it poked her face, she whined and pinged at his spark as if telling him to knock it off. “What? Do you want to starve? I don’t care how unpleasant it is, take the fuel.”

She opened her mouth a little, but just to make a despairing noise. Megatron, scowling, lifted the dropper.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Look.” He stuck the tip in his mouth and squeezed the bulb. It tasted weird, but not poisonous, so he forced a grin at her.

He took up more fuel and this time, when he lowered it to her face, she latched on. His grip carefully tightened just enough to force a drop of energon into her mouth. Her jaw worked as she swallowed, and he squeezed again.

Again, her size struck him. She was ridiculously, unbelievably tiny. It would have taken no effort for anything to destroy her, including his own hand. A short while ago she’d disturbed him, but now he was just worried. They were of incompatible sizes, she and the universe.

From her perspective, he must have appeared monstrous—dark, cast in shadow, large enough to fill her vision, and scowling in concentration as he fed her. When she looked at him, however, she shone with the clear, bald trust of someone who didn’t know any better. Her trust was simple and compulsive and he couldn’t remember the last time anyone looked at him like that, if ever.

She squeezed his spark disrespectfully and made demands of him and didn’t listen and got worried if he wasn’t always looking at her. She confused him.

When the dropper was empty, he pulled it away. She yawned, stretched big, and shut her optics. He wondered if a processor that tiny could produce dreams, and what her first one would be.

“If I don’t do the same, you’ll have to run the ship,” he said, turning from the desk but pausing. He picked up the pod and took her with him to the berth.

The machine hadn’t taken enough of him to give to her, and another splice was inadvisable. Perhaps proximity could help. The warmth and radiation from his spark might strengthen hers. It was, perhaps, just fancy, but he would bring it up with Blackarachnia tomorrow and conduct his own experiment tonight.

Megatron mechanically sat then laid down flat on the berth, slow and careful to avoid disturbing the pod. His spark chamber opened, casting faint blue light into the darkness. The pod wasn’t large enough to balance on the rim over his spark, though he tried to make it work. After a minute he admitted defeat, shut his chamber, and placed the pod on top, surrounded by his armor panels.

He craned his neck to look at her. She was asleep, totally unbothered by the movement. He reclined his head and tried to initiate stasis, but a thousand thoughts flitted through his mind.

It took a long time for him to shut down, and he never made it deeper than the topsoil of rest, that fuzzy place where dream and reality mingled. He dreamed the little one grew into a shell identical to his own but eight times as large. She was too big and collapsed under her own weight, crushing her creator. Blackarachnia was impatient to begin “round two” of the experiments and came at him with a thick, writhing cable. Megatron couldn’t get away because something hot and heavy weighed down his chest.

He woke, but not because of the imagery. His computers were upset at something, limbs primed and giving him helpful calculations about angular thrust and points of weakness. This sort of thing could happen to warbuilds, but he wasn’t prone to it himself. His first thought was that his body was warning him of a genuine threat.

He lifted the pod and got off the berth, moving to the door with a hurried, loud stride. Whatever was lurking out there, he wanted it to know he was coming.

On the other side of the wall he thought he heard movement. He slipped the pod behind the globe, out of sight, and punched the quick-unlock button to open the door.

Starscream was ambling down the hall away from him. He glanced over with a surprised look at the sound of the door. “Oh! Master, you’re awake? Can you not rest well?”

“What are you doing down here? You’re supposed to be on the bridge.”

“I was just conducting a patrol, sir,” Starscream said, turning to him and bowing with a flourish. “We’re in a very empty portion of space, so I thought Lugnut would have everything under control for a while.”

“A patrol.” Megatron raised an optic. “So you come and stand right at my door? Were you intending to patrol my private quarters?”

Starscream’s optics widened. “Not at all, Lord Megatron! I didn’t realize I’d gotten close enough for you to hear me. My apologies. I will leave you and let you get back to stasis.” He turned and strutted away, unhurried like he had nowhere to be.

Megatron frowned. He locked the door and returned to the berth with the pod. This time he kept a hand clamped over her, and he didn’t dream at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe that won't be considered infanticide but i'm cautious. hopefully i didn't freak people out?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A revelation, a decision, and a name.

There were no other disturbances, but stasis didn’t come easy for him. The little one woke him frequently to demand more energon, and he took care of her himself despite his irritation. He wanted to keep her close, so he wasn’t going to pass her off to someone else; he wouldn’t have rested at all if he did that. There was no need, then, to wake anyone else. Morning came too soon.

Last night felt like a dream, and he wasn’t sure now if his paranoia was genuine or perhaps fueled by a forgotten nightmare. He still felt cautious when he woke for the day, so he placed the pod in a hollow area in his chest, nestling her in a bundle of thick cables that connected his armor to his protoform. She was as safe as she could ever be.

He met Blitzwing and Blackarachnia at the first intersection outside the barracks. As soon as she looked over at him he knew something was wrong. “Lord Megatron,” she said. “I have to tell you something.”

“I also have something to say. You go first.”

“I think someone broke into my lab,” she said, her voice dropping as she glanced over her shoulder. “I left the lab like an hour after you and Blitzwing and I’m sure I shut the door. Today it was open, and a few things were disturbed but nothing was taken. The only thing I can think he’d be after is her.”

Megatron nodded. “Starscream. He was outside my door last night, quite close. He may have been trying to get inside. Blitzwing, did you hear or see anything last night?”

“No, sir. I think I did wake up, though. I thought I heard something, but I went right back to stasis.”

“Why would Starscream try to steal your clone?” Blackarachnia asked.

“I could guess, but I’m not sure.” He tapped his chest. “I have her in here for now.”

“That seems precarious,” Blitzwing said.

“I just won’t do anything strenuous. I have an idea that being close to the progenitor spark might help her anyway. What do you think?”

“Anything’s worth a shot,” Blackarachnia said. “We can do some scans later.”

Starscream was the only bot on the bridge since Lugnut was getting fuel for them both. He leaned against his console, his wings drooping in a tired way. Megatron stood by the captain’s chair and watched his back.

“A glorious morning to you, Master,” Lugnut said, entering from a side door with two cubes. Starscream perked, hopped across the room, and thanklessly snatched the energon from Lugnut’s pincer. “...You are always grand and imposing, great one, so please do not misunderstand me, but you also look rigid. Is everything all right?”

“I didn’t rest well. I’m fine, Lugnut.”

“Were you sparring?”

“Sparring?”

“I saw Starscream heading towards your private quarters last night.”

Megatron frowned.

Starscream’s wings straightened. “I was taking a walk,” he said.

“Let’s go to the inhabited planet that’s near here,” Megatron said, pretending to be unaffected. “Perhaps they’ve seen something interesting in the last few decades.”

“Course set, my liege,” Blitzwing said a moment later. “Estimated time of arrival: thirty hours.”

“Aw, I’ll probably be in stasis,” Starscream said. “I like the beaches on that one moon. You remember those, Blitzy?”

“Do not call me that.”

His spark jolted a little. “I believe the little one needs energon,” he said. “Blackarachnia, Blitzwing, come with me. I should show you two how to feed her.”

They glanced at each other and followed him back to his quarters. It was Blackarachnia’s first time inside the room and she stood very stiff next to Blitzwing.

“Obviously this isn’t just about feeding,” Megatron said as he set the pod down and opened it. “I want to catch Starscream in the act, whatever it is. Accusing him outright without evidence that something actually happened is poor form, so we’re laying a trap.”

Blitzwing tilted his head at the sight of Megatron using a dropper to feed the little one. “Interesting use of that.”

“I never even considered that she couldn’t feed herself,” Blackarachnia said, relaxing now that she had something on which to focus. “She really is...very fragile.”

Megatron put away the empty dropper. The little one stretched and flipped over onto her stomach. She beeped as though surprised at her own strength. Was she always able to do that, or was she truly getting stronger?

“I won’t allow anything to happen to her,” he said. “Blackarachnia, I need your hands.”

She approached as he got a piece of fabric from his supplies. “Take her out of the pod and wrap her in this.”

She took the items and laid them on the desk. The little one chirped and wriggled at being touched, so Blackarachnia picked her up and set her down quickly. Then she folded the corners of the cloth until only the top half of the little one’s head was visible. She looked around with stark amazement that something like this should happen to her, but it must have been comfortable because she didn’t ping Megatron’s spark for help.

He got down on one knee and opened a section of his chest. “Put her somewhere in there. Secure her carefully, now.”

Blackarachnia cradled the soft bundle in her hands and stepped up to him. She set her down in the same knot of cords as before, nudging things here and there to make sure she wouldn’t be jostled when he moved.

He shut his chest, trusting that she wouldn’t fall or knock into anything. There was more risk of damage to her than to him. He found another cloth, draped it over the pod, and hid it behind the globe. “All right. Let’s go.”

Once on the bridge, he announced, “She is in stasis in my quarters. Don’t make too much noise.”

“We’ll be as quiet as thieves, master,” Starscream said.

“Lugnut,” Megatron said.

“Yes, master?”

“Go double-check our energon stores. Be sure to factor in the extra fuel tank. I estimate she takes about twenty ounces a day.”

“As you desire, my lord.” Lugnut bowed and left the bridge.

“I’ve gotta go check some things in the lab,” Blackarachnia said, giving a parting glare to Starscream’s back as she went.

Megatron let a few minutes pass. “Blitzwing, did you check the rear thrusters?”

“Of course.” He looked over, caught Megatron’s meaning, and raised an optic. “Er, wait, the rear thrusters? I don’t think I’ve been down there in a week.”

“For spark’s sake, Blitzwing. What if something happened? Come on. I’m going with you to make sure it’s done right.”

“Yes, sir.”

Starscream huffed. “You’re so forgetful.”

Blitzwing didn’t comment and followed Megatron into the hall.

“How did Starscream look to you?”

“Unrevealing,” Blitzwing said. “But he’s Starscream.”

“Let’s take a walk, but not to the thrusters.”

They took the long way around the ship to the barracks. Megatron hoped it was enough time for his quarry to build confidence and decide to try something.

As they turned the corner, Megatron saw a shadow cross into the open door of his private quarters. Blitzwing shot forward faster than Megatron had ever seen him move, his feet thundering and his voice shouting, “Hey!”

Megatron was slower and couldn’t see into the room. Blitzwing relaxed and glanced back with confusion, saying, “It’s Lugnut.” He stepped aside. Megatron hurried a little, half disbelieving what he heard.

Lugnut stood in the middle of the room, the pod grasped in his pincers. “M-master, I can explain.”

“I hope so,” Megatron snapped.

He whimpered and fell to his knees. “I’m so sorry, my lord! I was thinking of killing her! I admit it freely! Please, take her to safety.” He extended his arm, causing the cloth to fall off the pod. He looked at it and his optic narrowed.

“You’ve been had,” Blitzwing said.

Megatron pressed a hand against his optics, tempted to indulge in his rage. “This is no place to have it out.” He opened the public comm. “Everybody to the bridge now.”

He stepped aside. Lugnut timidly glanced at him as he went, and Blitzwing strode by him, keeping him in check. Megatron took up the rear, and only concern for harming the little one kept him at his slow pace. He wanted to stomp forward, shove them to make them go faster, and burn off this excited, angry energy.

Blackarachnia was outside her lab, ready to look triumphant, but her expectant expression turned into puzzlement. “Wh...what?” She gaped at Lugnut and didn’t follow until she was quite behind Megatron.

Still on the bridge, standing by his console, Starscream stared blankly at the procession. Everyone fanned out around the captain’s chair, where Megatron took his place like a judge.

“Lugnut,” he started. “ _Lugnut_. What the hell were you thinking?”

“My master, forgive me, please! I only wish to serve you!”

Megatron’s anger was never loud. He gripped the armrests slightly, leaned forward, and dropped his voice half an octave. “And you do that by trying to kill my creation?”

“I had my reasons…”

“And they are?”

Lugnut started out with his head bowed, his voice thin and wavering. “I thought...I thought...that the spider creature was untrustworthy, and trying to manipulate you for her own wicked ends. What if she was trying to kill you? Creating the little one harmed you, after all. Nothing good could come of her. She’s an abomination!” He became slightly impassioned and lifted his optic to Megatron. “I believed I was being loyal and helping you, my glorious leader! Please believe that I am still loyal!”

“Blackarachnia’s more loyal than you.”

Lugnut cried out like he’d been struck, bowing his head again, prostrating himself before the throne. “I’m so sorry! You are the ultimate authority! I will never do something so foolish and selfish as to presume myself capable of such decisions again!”

“You’re missing the point.” He parted his chest plates, earning a gasp from Starscream. “It was wrong of you to try to kill her. She’s _mine_. I decide what happens to her.”

Lugnut failed to speak for a few seconds. “...I don’t know if I could have truly gone through with it, my lord. I had second thoughts when I held the pod, and now, seeing her...I am glad she wasn’t there. I am glad Blitzwing stopped me. I fear what it would have done to me if I believed I hurt her, even briefly.”

“Hmph.” The theatrics were exhausting, but Megatron at least believed he felt shame. Perhaps he was even telling the truth. “Now, as for you, Starscream…”

“Seriously? This is _his_ trial!” Starscream gestured at him strongly.

“Explain why you were in front of my quarters last night.”

Starscream rolled his optics. “I took a walk, like I said.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Okay, okay! I did really go for a walk and left Lugnut alone on the bridge. I had no idea what he was doing. I was coming back when I noticed Blackarachnia’s lab door was open and I knew she was asleep, so I stepped in. I was curious. Then I noticed the pod was missing and I intended to bring it up with you. When I heard you getting up I got startled because…ugh, I guess I thought you would blame me if someone really did steal the little thing.” Starscream folded his arms. “It looks like that’s what you did anyway.”

“Lugnut said he saw Starscream going down the hall,” Blackarachnia said.

“He was obviously trying to deflect suspicion!”

“My point was that the barracks aren’t visible from the bridge, so he had to have left.”

“It’s true...I was at Lord Megatron’s door when I heard footsteps, so I hurried into the barracks. For a second I thought I woke Blitzwing, but he went right back into stasis.”

“I expected more honor from you, Lugnut,” Megatron said.

Lugnut hung his head.

“And you didn’t expect any from me?” Starscream pouted. “What’s his punishment going to be?” he asked a second later, bouncing back from his offended attitude.

“That’s between the two of us,” Megatron said. “I have to think of something suitable for the crime.” What would satisfy him without causing regret later? Megatron knew it was unwise to be too severe, but all he wanted to do at that moment was maim Lugnut and anyone else he thought would make the universe more dangerous for her. At that moment, he could have massacred New Kaon itself, if he thought it would make her safer.

For his own sake he had to wait to punish Lugnut.

“May I suggest—”

“You may not, Starscream. Let’s all try for a semblance of a normal day. I will speak to you later, Lugnut. Now get out of my sight and stay away from me.”

He nodded fervently and made himself scarce.

“What a day it’s been,” Starscream said airily. “I never expected anything like that from you, my lord.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your behavior, not just over Lugnut betraying you, but about the little thing!”

Megatron was quiet, daring him to go on.

Starscream dared. “All that passion and concern. I’ve never seen you like that before. You called her ‘my creation.’ You care about your creation and you hate the idea of her being hurt. It would have destroyed you inside if Lugnut harmed her, wouldn’t it?”

Megatron fought a mad urge to crush Starscream’s head between his hands. Assaulting him would have just proved his point—the little one was a weakness and he’d identified her as such. Megatron had never hated anyone more intensely than he hated Starscream in those two seconds between what he heard and how he responded.

“I wouldn’t have liked it much, no,” he said blandly. “Such effort went into her making. It would be a waste.”

Starscream tilted his head upward. “Unless you need me for anything else, master, I’m going to my berth.” He turned and sauntered away.

“He didn’t buy that,” Blitzwing said. “You just confirmed that he was right.”

“I was a bit too dry, wasn’t I?” Megatron bowed his head into an open palm, nursing a budding processor ache. “I need to think.” He got up. “I’m going to my work station. Don’t comm me unless you absolutely must.”

“Yes, my liege.”

“Did you want me to put her in the pod again?” Blackarachnia asked.

“No. I’m going to tinker with it.”

Not far from the bridge was a room where Megatron kept various tools and machine parts. It was mostly junk. The truly useful things got cannibalized into the ship or sent to New Kaon, and everything else were little more than toys for when he got restless.

A wide workbench took up half of one wall, an array of tools hanging over it on various hooks. Megatron set the pod down and began to take it apart. His initial idea was to increase its defensibility somehow. The little one was his weakness, but he would not eliminate her. He would cover her.

Starscream had a way under his armor and he knew it. Just because he hadn’t done anything today didn’t mean he wouldn’t in the future.

Then something else occurred to Megatron. How did he know Starscream _hadn’t_ intended to kill the little one—and found the pod already gone? Perhaps he sensed Lugnut’s coming betrayal—they spent enough time together—and thought if he timed it right, he could pin it on his shift partner. He just timed it slightly wrong.

That was pure conspiracy and Megatron knew it, but it was possible, and it was the only thing his processor could focus on for several minutes. _It would have destroyed you inside._ When were phrases like that not threats?

He’d been foolish. His anger over her safety caused him to drop his guard around a potential enemy; that enemy might turn out to be nonexistent, but he was better than this.

Something had to be done.

* * *

He was finished with his plan and his modifications by late afternoon. He only left the room twice, to grab fuel and check the bridge. It took a lot of effort to do everything he needed, and by the time he was ready to leave he wanted the day to be over. Cruelly, there was still much to be done.

As he walked down the hall, he checked Lugnut and Starscream’s locations. They were in the barracks, most likely in stasis, but at the very least not paying attention to anything. He still had no idea what to do about Lugnut, because his plans for the little one had occupied his mind the entire time.

Blackarachnia was still in her lab. Megatron walked in and said without preamble, “I must be rid of her.”

Blackarachnia had been in the middle of refueling. She set a half empty cube down and regarded him. “Like I said, it’d be easy…”

“No. I don’t want her to die. She’s too important. But I must be rid of her.”

Blackarachnia frowned. “I assume you have something different in mind, because I think you’d just order us to New Kaon if you didn’t want her around.”

“There are too many potential enemies.” Megatron took out the pod and placed it on a table. “She’s too important to extinguish, but she’s too much of a liability around here. She’s only safe with me…but she’s also in danger as long as I have her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Fake her death,” he said. “We’ve just entered a star system and are passing through an asteroid belt. I’m going to hide her pod on one and tell everyone I reabsorbed her spark. Naturally, I needed you to be in on it, but it’s best if even Blitzwing doesn’t know, so don’t tell anyone anything.”

“My lord, I sympathize with your difficult situation and I know there’s no easy choice, but isn’t that the same as sending her to her death?”

“I tinkered with the pod all day. It’s now equipped with a stasis mode, a homing beacon, and enough energy from the _Nemesis_ ’s star drive to teleport her anywhere in the galaxy once. If any component is damaged, or if the pod’s rudimentary sensors detect a fatal impact, she will be brought back to me, right into my hands if possible.”

“I see. You’ll retrieve her in secret later?”

Megatron nodded. “I don’t know when. Perhaps when we find a cure for her condition.” He thought of Cybertron. Surely their advanced medical technology could help her. “Before I send her out, do those scans.” He let Blackarachnia take her from his chest.

This time the little one beeped and wriggled, trying to avoid the wire that Blackarachnia brandished. “Hey, hold still!” A noise that might have been an attempt at a growl came from her. “Don’t sass me! This is for your own good.”

The little one huffed and whimpered as Blackarachnia got the wire in. She called out to Megatron.

“I sympathize, but I’m powerless here.”

“It’s just a few seconds—see? It’s done. No more wire.” She moved over to the screen and indicated a few numbers. “See these? This has all improved. It’s a good sign. You might have been right about the spark thing, sir. Or she could be growing, like...an organic.”

“It would still take a long time for her to become independent, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah. Unless she hits a growth spurt or something. Sometimes organics just start growing like crazy for a while.” Blackarachnia removed her from the cloth and placed her in the pod.

“Curious things those organics can do.” Megatron picked her up. “I’m going outside now. I will return shortly.”

Blackarachnia looked at them mournfully, more emotive than a con ought to be. “Goodbye,” she said.

Megatron descended into the ship’s bowels, marching like the head of a funeral progression. He arrived at the boarding ramp and stood at the edge of the _Nemesis_ ’s tenuous gravitational field, gazing out at the stars and passing asteroids. Many of them were porous, which was good. He’d be able to hide her underground.

He looked down at her and found her awake, but looking tired. This would be the last time she saw him. He didn’t think she could understand anything he said, but he spoke anyway. “I’m not abandoning you,” he said. “That would imply I didn’t intend for us to reunite. This is a separation, and it’ll hurt me worse than it will hurt you.”

Her optics drooped in response to the sound of his voice; she was going into stasis, but it was too soon. There was something else he needed to do. He opened the pod, the click rousing her from her resting state. She beeped at him.

He extended his index digit and reached towards her. She stirred, optics widening and limbs waving. The tip of his digit covered most of her body, which was softer and squishier than a normal protoform. That odd ripple went through her again and he kept his hand very still, concerned the rough texture of his glove might harm her if he applied even the slightest friction. She raised her arms and patted him, then tested her mouth on him and made a disgusted face.

“You don’t even have a name yet. What do you think? Do you need one?”

She chirped.

“If you don’t have one today, that’s fine. We’ll collide again someday.” He paused. “That isn’t a bad first name. What do you think of Collide?” Though he’d avoided it before, it felt right to name her now. The name itself didn’t matter much, but the act was like making a promise— _you’re still mine. You still have me._

He lifted his digit, prompting a yell from Collide. “I’m sorry. It’s time for you to go.” He shut the lid and took a small tool from his abdomen that he’d brought with him. The button to initiate stasis was recessed in the side of the pod, and he used the tool to press it.

Collide succumbed to deep unconsciousness. She tucked her head to her knees and wrapped her arms around her chest, freezing in her tiny and pristine state. In the worst case scenario, she would stay like that forever, peaceful and unmarred and static, and he would never see or touch her again. But she would live.

Megatron walked off the edge of the Nemesis and briefly rocketed forward, floating towards the nearest asteroid. He swung around to fire his jets at the surface, slowing his descent, and gently made contact with the ground.

The asteroid was small enough that the horizon’s curvature was visible. The surface was dusty and pockmarked with the abuse of millions of stellar cycles, as well as scored with deeper holes and tunnels. Megatron walked a short while, found a hole large enough for his arm, and knelt with the pod in hand.

 _You don’t have to do this,_ he thought. _Keep her inside you. It’s safe enough._

He wouldn’t be able to fight, and then what would the Decepticons do? His model was one of the most powerful ever produced, and he was among the very few that still functioned. He couldn’t just stop, not even for Collide. It was safest, anyway, for nobody to know of her at all.

He stuck his arm into the hole and set the pod down where it was out of sight, then stood abruptly. The _Nemesis_ crawled overhead, leaving him behind. He transformed and left the asteroid.

As the distance between them grew, Megatron felt a stretch in his spark like he was trying to touch hers. Their strange connection went deeper than he thought. Her life flickered beyond his, like a light that receded but didn’t disappear—like the stars around him, but with palpable warmth. He was, somehow, certain beyond doubt that he would feel her wherever he went, and that this tether on his spark could lead him back to her, or her to him, no matter what.

He caught up with the Nemesis and landed in the loading bay. He paid attention to the awareness in his spark, waiting for it to fade but it never did. Neither did it compel him to go back for her, though; instead it was just comforting to know she was out there.

Megatron returned to the lab and stood in contemplative silence, pretending to commit the unspeakable. Blackarachnia was wisely quiet. He used the time to consider how to tell his crew without arousing suspicion. Half an hour passed and he supposed that was long enough.

It was getting late now. Starscream and Lugnut were up, the former stalking the halls while the latter was pacing around the barracks. Simple was best, so Megatron opened the public comm and stated, “I have reabsorbed the little one. She is no more. You are not to speak of her or the process we have discovered. Violators will be dismembered and stuck to the front of the ship to catch asteroids.”

The punishment sounded ridiculous, but it was real and ship commanders had used it before. He imagined Lugnut cringing at the thought of it.

He stepped back onto the bridge. Blitzwing gave him a look, which he expected.

“Why?”

Megatron sighed. Blitzwing knew he was exempt from the threat, just this once. “Blackarachnia examined her and found she was leaking, for lack of a better term. She was condemned to an early death as soon as she was sparked. Instead of allowing her to dissipate, I took her back. This way she’s not really dead.”

Blitzwing winced, but in true Decepticon fashion did not express severe sympathy. “Oh. That’s unfortunate. I really wish it had worked out. I was interested in trying it myself.”

“It would have killed you. Besides, once we take Cybertron, we won’t need to look for other methods like this. Let’s use this situation as motivation.”

“I can’t believe you can find a bright side to it,” Blitzwing said. “But that’s why you’re the leader, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.” He stood in silence. “I named her Collide, right before. I thought you might like to know that.”

“A better name than little one.”

Megatron fell into the chair. There was a thoughtful, melancholy atmosphere on the bridge and it was his fault. Planets hung in the void outside, some as big as large marbles and shining like weak stars. Landing on any of them suddenly seemed like the most unpleasant thing in the universe.

He had to move forward, though. No amount of doubting and wanting would make him go back on his decisions. If it turned out to be a mistake, he would have to live with it. Anything else he did could have ended poorly as well. Whatever happened, he’d live with himself. He had no choice.

The hour ticked over and he realized it had been a full day since Collide’s creation. It had been brutally long and mercilessly short at the same time; every second was vivid in his memory, but there were so few of them. Soon this day would end as well. Tomorrow would be another new life for him and his Decepticons. Someday, tomorrow would come for Collide too, but he didn’t know when and that was the most difficult part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a little unsure of multiple things in this chapter, but i've learned by now to not get sucked into the rewrite-it-over-and-over cycle. it's probably just that i'm a shitposter by trade and unused to genuine pathos? idk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collide goes home, but there's a problem...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a bit despite being short because the end of May was Weird for me. there was also originally a bit with Sari waking up in the lab and meeting Professor Sumdac but it wasn't working and didn't really add anything anyway. this whole thing ended up being slightly shorter than i thought it would be as a result, but i think it says everything it needs to say.

For a long time, Collide’s hiding place went undisturbed. She slept unaware through the ages, her spark slowed to the edge of life but kept warm by her protective cage. Beyond its thin walls lay harsh vacuum and deep darkness that would rip apart something as fragile and vulnerable as herself. Even if she were aware of her situation, she wouldn’t have been afraid because she was still attached to her progenitor’s spark.

Even when his spark went dim, severing their connection, it didn’t hurt.

Her luck didn’t hold forever. One day the pod’s sensors picked up an incoming impact and initiated the jump sequence. There was a problem—the homing point was scrambled. Megatron’s resilient but weakened spark was impossible to detect inside his makeshift grave.

A fragment of a shard of himself pulsed brighter than the core; like a whimper in the ether, it was barely there but loud against the silence. Spark energy tended to seep into the body, and Megatron’s head was perched at the top of a tower like a beacon. It was too little to remain attached to her, but it was strong enough for him to keep his promise. Within seconds, the transwarp connection was established and the jump was initiated.

The entire process took less than fifteen seconds, and it wasn’t a moment too long. The asteroid where she had been sheltered fatally impacted with ones of its larger brothers and broke apart. Collide was gone, soon to become someone else, and once she woke, she would be unaware of what was now missing.

* * *

Detroit shone beneath him. He stood on the mountaintop, reveling that he could stand again, but unable to fully enjoy his reclaimed freedom. Starscream continued to be a nuisance, somehow, but his persistent survival paled in comparison to what was on Megatron’s mind now.

He knew it the moment he woke in that damned lab, but it took until now for him to freely admit it. Collide was gone. When he first woke and couldn’t feel her, he assumed it was because he didn’t have a body. He wasn’t physically connected to his spark. His new body was some hours old and he still couldn’t sense the life that should have shone alongside his own. Collide was gone.

He told himself again: Collide was gone.

His first thought was that the homing beacon failed because of his condition. Something happened while his body lay at the bottom of a ditch, a transwarp connection couldn’t be established, and she was killed. The idea made him so angry he felt like his mind was tunneling, focusing in with surgical precision on the fantasy of inflicting the most miserable deaths possible upon Starscream and the Autobots.

His second thought was that he wanted something tangible to blame. Maybe the pod’s sensors failed, maybe the lid opened and exposed Collide to conditions she couldn’t handle, or maybe she was found by aliens that handled her carelessly. Anything could have happened. He hated to contemplate it, but the last thing his Decepticons needed was their leader emotionally compromised. It wasn’t  _ necessarily _ the Autobots’ fault and he couldn’t let his emotions make him weak before an enemy again.

The worst part of it was he couldn’t talk about her. Not because he wanted to keep the ruse a secret—he didn’t care about that anymore. Megatron didn’t  _ like _ either of the cons forced into his proximity. If only Blitzwing were still Blitzwing, but that was history now, like poor Collide.

_ What happened to her? _ he wondered. The question made his spark tremble.

He swore he wouldn’t think of her again once he descended into the mountain. He still had a future, a life, a planet to fight for, and people who relied on him. This pain couldn’t be allowed to threaten that. Tonight was her memorial, her send-off, her final severance, and then Megatron would make himself be all right. For the sake of Cybertron he had to leave her behind for the second time.

Despite how it turned out, he didn’t regret creating her. The knowledge gained had been worth it, if nothing else, but their short time together had also been nice. He was disappointed he had so few memories, and frustrated at circumstances in general, but not regretful.

That was enough, he decided. Once more he strained his spark against the severed connection, testing and confirming her absence for the final time. He jumped off the side of the mountain and flew down, physically and mentally distancing himself from his emotional state. Memories of her occupied just one small room of his mind and he was turning off the light, and shutting the door, and locking them away, perhaps someday to be opened and cherished again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading, leaving kudos, bookmarking, commenting, etc.!! i'm so happy i finished this and i'm glad people enjoyed it.
> 
> i forget if i mentioned this before, but this was originally the prologue to a much larger fic i'm working on! it's currently called Baby Boom and i wrote part of it during April's Camp Nano. i took the prologue from the main doc and turned it into its own thing, but they're still very much connected. it'll follow what happens when Sari accidentally reconnects their sparks, leading to Megatron discovering who she is right before he's due to be broken out of prison. it's extremely long and right now i'm still very early in the first draft, but i do hope to get it out one day. for now, thanks for following the prologue, and i hope it sets the stage well for Baby Boom.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i'm not used to writing Blackarachnia or pre-surgery Blitzwing so hopefully this isn't too awkward.


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